


Ashes to Ashes

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Series: Magnificent Seven (TV) - Ashes (slash) [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ella makes one last attempt to win Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #2.

          Chris looked down, admiring Vin's lissome body as the tracker squirmed under his touch.  Tanner was lying naked, bathed in candlelight on the bed Larabee had built for them, his legs splayed open as Chris stroked his hand up and down the man's hard cock; taut stomach muscles quivered, the tracker's head rolling from side to side as he moaned softly and panted for breath.

          Moving up between the man's legs, Chris grabbed his own cock at the base and prepared to enter the tracker's tight chute, but before he could thrust himself into the intense heat that awaited him, the door to the bedroom flew open and three men entered, their guns drawn.

          "Get up!" one of the men barked, his eyes rounded with surprise at the sight he'd stumbled across, his gaze locked on Vin's cock, which poked straight up from the tangle of light chestnut brown hair at his groin.

          Chris scrambled off the bed, snarling, "What the hell's goin' on here?"

          "You Chris Larabee?" one of the men asked him.

          The gunslinger nodded, demanding, "Who wants to know?"

          "You're comin' with us," the same man replied, licking his lips, his gaze still on Vin as the tracker climbed off the bed as well, his erection withering away.  The man's gaze shifted to Chris just long enough for him to add, "Get dressed, Larabee."

          Chris cursed under his breath, but he reached for his clothes, pulling them on as he continued to mutter under his breath.  Who the hell were these men, and what did they want with him and Tanner?

          Vin reached for his clothes as well, but the man stopped him with a wave of his Colt, saying, "Not you, boy."  He nodded to the other two men and they stepped up next to Chris, one on each side, and led him to the far side of the room.

          "Now, listen up, boy," the man said, speaking directly to Vin, "we've got orders to deliver Larabee to somebody, but they didn't say nothin' to us 'bout him being hurt or not.  So, you do what I tell you to, or I'll have the boys here put a hole in your friend, you understand?"

          "What the hell're you doin'?" Chris demanded as the man started toward Vin.  "You want me, you've got me, let's get this the hell over with."

          One of the two who holding him drove his fists into Larabee's mid-section in a quick one-two series of blows, one forcing the air from his lungs, the other cracking one of his ribs.  Chris's knees buckled with the sudden flash of pain.  And, seeing the moment of weakness, the man struck again.

Larabee's knees hit the floor and he gulped for air like a landed fish.

          The man who had spoken reached Vin, his gaze sweeping over the tracker's naked body and lingering on the shrunken cock.  He reached out, taking the flaccid member in his hand and pulling on it roughly.

          Chris saw Vin flinch and tremble, but the younger man's shoulders stayed squared and his gaze remained defiant, refusing to give any ground.

          "I saw what he was gonna do to ya, boy," the man hissed.  "Think I'll give it a try myself, and you're gonna let me, or we'll shoot Larabee."

          "No!" Chris cried, surging to his feet.  The two men grabbed him, the one who had hit him slamming him back against the wall – hard – the other punching him in the belly again.

The first man rammed the barrel of his gun under Larabee's chin, snarling, "Shut up and stand still.  Be glad we're gonna let ya watch."

          "You sonuva–"

          "Chris," the tracker snapped, blue eyes locking on green.  "Ain't worth gettin' killed over."

          Chris wanted to argue, but he could read Vin's gaze far too easily – the tracker was begging him not to get himself killed.

          "Listen to the man," the one with the gun growled.  "He ain't gonna get nothin' more 'n he was gonna get anyway."  Then he grinned nastily and corrected, "Well, he'll get a little more, but it'll be the same."

          The leader grabbed Vin by the arms and pushed him over to the table that set next to the window.  He jerked the tracker around and shoved him up against the heavy oak boards, forcing him to bend over so his chest was pressed flat against the wooden surface.

          "Carl, get over here and tie his hands down," the man snapped.

          The big man who had cracked Chris's rib walked over to the table, and using his and the leader's belts, secured Vin's wrists to two of the table legs, making it impossible for tracker to stand up straight.

          The big man returned to Chris, punching him in the gut again just for the sheer pleasure of it.  Larabee dropped to his knees with a low moan, but his gaze remained locked on the man's, the icy hate of his gaze promising a slow death when he got out of this.

          Across the room, the leader set his gun on the table next to Vin, then unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to just above his knees.  Stepping up behind Vin, he yanked the tracker's butt cheeks open and laughed when he found the oil Chris had rubbed onto and into the tracker's hole.  "Hell, you're ready for me, ain't ya, boy!"

          Grabbing his cock, he pressed the knotty head against the slicked hole, forcing himself past the tightly clenched ring of muscle with a low grunt.

          Vin grunted as well, fighting wildly against the restraints, jerking his hips, but he couldn't stop the man from penetrating his ass.

          "Hellfire!" the man shouted, starting to pant before he was even fully buried in the tracker's ass.  "If you ain't the tightest damned hole I ever poked!"  He grabbed Vin's hips and pumped with short, hard strokes, coming almost immediately.  He grunted loudly each time his seed shot free and when he was done, he pulled out and stepped back, saying, "Damnation!  That's better 'n I expected."  He pulled up his pants, then grabbed his gun and turned to the two other men.  "Y'all want some of this tight ass for yourselves?"

          "I sure as hell do," the man with the gun snarled, already breathing heavily from just watching his boss take Vin.  He licked his lips in anticipation, waiting for the go-ahead.

          Chris looked at the man, begging softly, "Please, don't do this."

          "Why not?" the gunman asked with a leer.  "Sounds like he's better 'n a new whore!"

          The gunman walked over to Vin and pulled his cheeks open, staring at his hole for a moment before he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, which he let drop and pool around his ankles.  Kicking Vin's ankles, he forced the tracker to spread his legs a little farther apart, then grabbed his long rod and pressed the shovel-shaped head against the man's hole.

          Again the tracker fought violently, and again he was unable to stop the stranger from spearing his way into his body.

          "Damned if y' ain't right, Dan," the gunman gasped as he sank halfway in on his first thrust.  "Hot and tight . . . just the way I like 'em."  He drew back a little and rammed his way in farther, already coming by the time he was fully buried in the tracker's silky heat, his hips jerking madly as he did.

          Done, he staggered back a couple of steps and bent over to catch his breath.

          "My turn," the largest of the three men said, his eyes gleaming as he rubbed his hard-on through the rough material of his pants.

          "Wait a damn minute, Carl," the gunman snapped.  "Let a man catch his damn breath."  Then he reached down and pulled up his pants and buckled his belt.  He shuffled back over to join Dan, who was keeping Chris out of the way.

          "This ought t' be good," the gunman whispered softly into Chris's ear as he pressed the barrel of his gun against Larabee's aching ribs.  "Dan's built like a damned horse.  He's gonna tear that boy's ass wide open when he pokes 'im."

          "Bastard!  Fuckin' bastards!" Chris snarled, trying to hit the man, but Dan clubbed him with the butt of his gun and the gunslinger fell to the floor, stars exploding in front of his eyes.

          "Oh, no you don't," Dan snapped, jerking Chris back onto his feet.  "You're gonna watch this."

          The big man pulled off his boots, then took his pants off, folding them up before setting them on the bed.  His cock was huge, both long and thick, and Chris felt the blood drain from his face.

Carl stepped up behind Vin and laid his member on top of Vin's butt, letting the tracker get a good feel for the size.

          Chris saw Vin tense and stop fighting against the restrains.

          Carl pulled the tracker's cheeks open and Larabee fought back a wave of nausea when he saw the semen leaking from Vin's hole.  At least it would add some lubrication for what was coming.

          But the big man didn't take Tanner immediately.  Instead, he slowly inserted one of his meaty fingers into the tracker's ass, twisting it around.

Vin grunted softly and squeezed his eyes closed, but he remained motionless.            After a few moments, Carl forced in a second finger and Chris knew what the big man was doing.  He was stretching Vin's opening so he could force his huge prick into the smaller man.

The tracker sucked in a sharp breath and jerked against the restraints when a third digit was added.

          "Settle down," Carl snapped, slapping Vin sharply on the ass, the blow leaving behind the red imprint of his palm.  The tracker yelped and stopped struggling.

          "Please," Chris said softly.  "You said you came for me.  Leave him alone."

          Dan chuckled softly, his hand reaching into his pants to pull on his own cock, which had grown hard again while he watched the tracker's violations.

          Carl pulled his fingers out of Vin's ass and stepped up behind him.  He took hold of his cock, rubbing the head up and down along the tracker's crack, using his own leaking precome and the oozing seed to slick the thick shaft.  When his cock glistened with the fluid, he pulled back his foreskin the rest of the way and placed the bulbous fist of his crown against Vin's hole, pushing hard until the tracker's sphincter finally gave way and he forced himself into the man's ass.  He grunted with satisfaction, his breath going ragged.

          Vin, on the other hand, choked back a cry, his head snapping back with the penetration.  His eyes squeezed shut against the pain, his lips curling off his clinched teeth.

          Carl griped Tanner's hips and shoved forward, forcing more of his huge cock into the tight chute.

          Vin moaned lowly, his legs starting to shake.  Sweat dripped off his face.

          With forceful pumps of his hips, Carl kept shoving his cock farther up Vin's ass, refusing to stop until he was buried to the root.  Chris stared at the tears streaming down the tracker's face, mixing with the sweat to fall onto the tabletop.

          When he was completely embedded inside the tracker, Carl leaned over Vin's back and bucked his hips.  The tracker arched up off the table as far as he could and cried out loudly.  The big man reached under the tracker's chest, his fingers seeking out, and finding, the two hard nipples, squeezing and pulling on them until Vin cried out again, unable to do anything to stop the agonizing assault on his body.  He jerked and writhed, fighting to dislodge the man's hands and cock.

          Carl grunted and pinched Vin's nipples so hard the tracker screamed.

          "Sonuvabitch!" Chris yelled at the big man.  "Leave him the hell alone!"

          One of Carl's hands left an abused nipple, reaching down to grab Vin's shrunken cock and balls.  He squeezed and pulled on those, making the tracker fight harder, but that only won him another painful pinch on his other nipple.

Then Carl finally released the throbbing, burning nub the tracker collapsed onto the tabletop, panting for air.

          Carl released Vin's cock and balls as well, grabbing the man's hips in his meaty hands.  Holding the tracker tight, he pulled halfway out of his hole and rammed back in hard enough to send the edge of the table slamming up against the wall.

          Vin howled with pain, his hands flexing open, then curling into tight fists as his knees buckled.

          Carl repeated the move, but this time Vin only moaned lowly through clenched teeth.  Chris saw the fine lines of blood running down the back of the tracker's legs.

          Carl picked up the pace, pulling farther out and ramming all the way back in with each stroke.  Vin bled more and he stopped fighting, lying limp across the tabletop while his ass was ravaged by the big man's massive cock.

          Carl pumped more savagely, reaching under Vin's hips and lifting them up so he could ram himself even deeper into the almost unconscious man.  And he was still holding the tracker up, spearing into him as hard and as fast as he could when he started to come.

          Carl jerked out after the first burst and grabbed his cock, holding it so he could pump his seed out across Vin's bare back and blood-coated thighs.  When he was finished, he walked over to the bed, grabbed the sheet and wiped himself off, then dressed and walked back over to join the others.

Looking at Chris he grinned and said, "Good fuck."

With a feral roar Larabee threw himself at the big man, determined to kill him with his bare hands.

Dan lifted his gun and fired.

"Vin!" Chris cried, but it was too late.  The hole in the man's back bubbled with blood and his slightless eyes held Larabee's, even in death pleading with Chris to help him.  To save him. . . .

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris bolted upright, drenched with sweat.  His chin jerked from side to side as he peered frantically around the darkness that disorientated him, looking for the horror he'd seen in his dream.

Vin.  Where was Vin?  Where was his body?

Then the realization of where he really was struck him: Vin's wagon.

          Nighttime.

They had bedded down in the tracker's wagon . . . together.  He and Vin.

Chris swallowed hard and glanced down.  The younger man was lying next to him, blue eyes open, watching.  And the tracker's expression was decidedly worried.

 _Damn_ , Chris sighed to himself, closing his eyes for a split second.  There might be no way to talk himself out of this one, not without telling the tracker at least a little of the truth: that he'd been plagued by the same nightmare every night for almost a week now – and he just didn't want to do that.  Not yet.

          "Chris?" Vin called softly.

          Larabee gulped in a deep breath and ran trembling hands over his hair.  "Sorry.  Didn't mean to wake you."

          "Another nightmare?"

          Chris nodded, wiping his dripping face with his palms, which were also damp with sweat.  His skin smelled sour from the fear, and he silently cursed himself for the weakness.

          "Y' gonna tell me 'bout it this time?" the tracker asked softly, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

          Chris thought for a moment, but then he shook his head.  "And I'd really appreciate it if you'd respect that . . . for the time being, anyway.  I'll tell you about it, Vin, I swear I will, just . . . not right now."

          Tanner looked like he wanted to argue the point, but he shrugged and laid back down, gesturing for Chris to do the same.

Larabee did, and the moment he was settled, Vin's arm slid across his chest as the younger man scooted closer, pressing himself up against the length of Chris's body.  How the tracker knew it was exactly what he wanted, the gunslinger wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Vin had been reading his mind from the moment they'd met.

The warmth radiating off the tracker's body chased away the chills building in Chris's gut, and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the wholesome affection Vin granted him so easily.  It had healed so much of his tattered soul he couldn't imagine losing it.  And especially not like he'd seen in his dreams . . . he'd never survive that.  Never.

Chris silently prayed the nightmare wouldn't return again as he felt himself sliding toward the beckoning arms of sleep.  And, thankfully, it did not.

But Vin laid awake the rest of the night, holding Chris, softly stroking his hair, his shoulder, his chest, determined to hold the nightmares at bay by sheer willpower.  That they had to do with him, the tracker was sure – the way Chris screamed his name just before he bolted awake was a dead giveaway he played some role in the man's night terrors.  But what was happening to him in those dreams, the tracker wasn't sure.  He just hoped Larabee would get around to telling him soon.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris watched Vin from the corner of his eye as they both worked on the house they would eventually call "home" when it was finished.  Despite the warmth of the late spring day, the tracker still wore his shirt over his long johns.  Chris had abandoned his an hour or more earlier.

Not for the first time Larabee wondered where the man's sense of modesty had come from.  Vin had scars, true, but nothing so ugly that he needed to keep his shirt on, especially not when they were out in the middle of nowhere, and Chris was the only other soul around.  Besides, the gunslinger admitted to himself, he liked looking at the tracker shirtless.  When Vin was clothed, he couldn't see just how truly muscular and strong the man really was.

Chris grinned.  Tanner was like a powerful, sleek mustang, all muscle and grace, half-wild and waiting to be tamed.  But the only time he ever saw Vin without his clothes on was when they were making love.

And when Tanner had run the gauntlet for them in the Apache camp, he reminded himself.[2]  But back then Larabee hadn't had an eye for the tracker's looks and, even if he had, he would have been too afraid Vin was going to get himself killed trying to save the rest of them to notice how attractive his body really was.

          He watched as Vin pulled off his hat and use his shirtsleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead before tossing his head, shaking the sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

Chris swallowed hard.  Tanner's chestnut-colored hair, streaked liberally with red and gold from the many hours working under the sun, was long and a little wild, and he couldn't help but remember how his fingers had tangled into the thick locks earlier when he'd awakened in the man's arms, or how he'd pulled the man's head down for a kiss.  He'd wanted to make love to Vin right then and there, but the images from his nightmare crowded in on him, making him too afraid.

Chris sighed.  The tracker was getting more than a little frustrated with him, and he really couldn't blame him.  It had been days since they'd made love, and all of them spent alone on the property they planned to share for the rest of their lives.  But he just couldn't do it.  He couldn't get past the fear that squeezed his heart every time he touched the tracker, or the images that assailed him from his nightmares. . . .

          He puffed out a breath and shook his head.  Hell, he was getting hard just thinking about touching the man, and that was the last thing he needed while he finished putting on the roof.  But if just thinking about touching Vin made him hard, why couldn't he just let go and love him?  It was just a dream, after all.  Hell, the house wasn't even finished yet.  There was no bed, no table, nothing real in his dreams.  But Vin was real.  And he was here, willing, wanting.

A flare of anger welled up in the gunslinger.  He was letting a damned dream spook him.  A _dream_ , and he'd be damned if he'd let that happen.

He promised himself that as soon as they were done for the day, he'd take Vin down to the creek so they could wash up.  And if a bath led to something more interesting, well, he was just going to let it happen, and by God he was going to enjoy it; the dreams be damned.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Y' gonna lay there the rest 'a the day, Lar'bee?"

          Chris cracked one eye open and stared up at Vin, who was standing naked on the bank of the creek, his hands on his hips.  He looked as comfortable standing there naked as he would have if he'd been fully clothed.  _Truly a son of nature_ , he concluded.  _So why does he wear all those damned clothes?_

"What if I do?" he asked the tracker out loud, feeling guilty that he hadn't followed his earlier decision and made love to the tracker.

          "Guess I'm gonna have t' go find me some dinner on m' own then," Tanner replied almost petulantly, donning his clothes.  "Hell, Chris, 'm hungry.  Reckon m' gut's gonna think I cut m' throat 'fore too long."

          The gunslinger smiled and shook his head.  Vin and JD were almost always hungry.  _Growing boys_ , he reminded himself, shaking his head.  "Why didn't you say so?" he asked, standing up from where he'd been relaxing in the slow-moving water and sloshed over to join Tanner, who handed him a towel to dry off with.

          Grinning, the tracker asked, "Want me t' help ya?"

          Chris glanced down to see what Vin was staring at and realized it was the blond's half-aroused cock.  "Thought you said you was hungry."

          Vin glanced up, blue eyes full of amusement and desire.  "Hungry fer lots 'a things, Cowboy."

          The gunslinger smiled.  "Let's get some food first," he said, deciding then that they'd spend the night in town, where the safety of the other peacekeepers might help him relax enough to get some decent sleep.  Not to mention relax enough to spend some time alone with Vin, doing more than just sleeping.

          When he was dried and almost dressed, Chris asked, "You mind ridin' into town t' eat?"

          Vin shook his head.  "No offense, Larabee, but hardtack and beans wear a little thin after a spell."

          Chris grinned and nodded.  "I was thinkin' the same thing.  Steak dinner sounds a damn sight better."

          The tracker grinned hungrily.  "Now yer talkin'."

          "Think we'll stay in town tonight, too . . . pick up some more supplies from Mrs. Potter in the morning."

          Vin's brow furrowed slightly, but he said, "If that's what y' want."

          Chris bent over to pull on his boots, but straightened, movement in the brush growing under the mesquite trees that dotted the sandy creek-side capturing his attention.  He frowned, his hand reaching automatically for his Colt.

          Vin saw the gunslinger's hand move, his Mare's Leg sliding effortlessly into his own hands in response.  He dropped into a crouch, his gaze sweeping over the land, looking for the trouble Chris was reacting to, but he didn't see or hear anything.  A soft buzz of warning in his gut told him trouble was out there, though, and it prickled his skin.

          "You see anything?" Chris asked softly.

          "Nope," Vin replied.  "Don't mean it ain't there."

          "Yeah," Chris said and quickly pulled on his boots.

Together the two men moved closer to a rocky outcrop they could use for cover, but there were no more sounds, and no movement to indicate trouble.

          After a short while they made a quick search of the area, Vin failing to turn up any signs that they'd been watched.

The danger past – if it was ever really there – they packed up their gear, mounted their horses, and rode into town, but the entire way Chris's stomach knotted with worry, images from his nightmares escaping his control and haunting him on the trip.

By the time they reached Four Corners, Chris's appetite was long gone, along with his desire.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin watched Chris push a piece of stake around and around on his plate.  He sighed.  "Larabee, y' plannin' t' eat that damn steer or just hunt it 'round yer plate 'til it drops from exhaustion?"

          The gunslinger glanced up, looking confused until the tracker's words sank in.  Then he grinned.  Setting his fork down he shook his head and sighed, saying, "Guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought."

          "Hell, y' ain't ate 'nough the last week t' keep a damned bird alive," Vin groused, worry keeping his voice soft.  "It's them nightmares, ain't it."

          It wasn't a question, and Chris didn't want to admit it, but he nodded.  "Just got a nasty ghost doggin' my heels.  It'll pass."

          "Since it don't look like it's gonna pass t'night, force yerself t' eat that damned beef.  Don't want y' fallin' off the roof 'cause y' dropped from hunger."

          Chris glanced down at the food on his plate, his stomach threatening to rebel when he realized the juice on his plate look a little like the blood he'd seen running down the backs of Vin's thighs in his dream.  He shook his head and pushed the plate away, swallowing hard several times to keep from being sick.

          "If y' ain't gonna eat that, I am," Vin threatened softly.

          "Go ahead," Chris told him.

          Tanner wasn't happy about it, but he went ahead and finished off Larabee's meal.  That done, the two men walked over to the saloon for a drink and a few hands of cards, the rest of the peacekeepers catching them up with all the news in town.

          "How's that new place comin' along?" Buck asked, flashing a smile at Inez, who ignored him – just like always.

          "Got most of the roof on today," Chris replied absently.  "Probably get that finished tomorrow."

          The conversation turned to the house and Chris's plans to start raising horses again.  Josiah said he'd talk to Ko-Je about Chris buying a stallion the ex-preacher had seen out on the reservation, and JD offered to help break any mustangs Chris and Vin rounded up.

Buck laughed at the young man and teased, "Mustangs ain't like those fancy eastern horses, JD."

          Dunne rolled his eyes and the two were off, arguing – again.

          After a couple of hours, Chris stood and walked outside to sit in one of the chairs on the boardwalk, smoking one of his cheroots and enjoying the cool night air.  A few minutes later Vin joined him.

          "Y' gonna tell me what's been hauntin' y'?" the tracker asked softly.

          Chris shook his head.

"All righty then," the tracker said, starting to turn away.

"Vin," Chris called to the sharpshooter.  Tanner stopped, turning back to look at him.  He gestured to the tracker and Vin came back.  "Stay in my room tonight," Larabee said softly.

Vin's eyes widened.  "Don't think that'd be a good idea, Cowboy."

Chris sighed.  "I know we agreed not to share a bed here in town . . . but to be honest, I don't want to be alone."

Vin studied him for a moment, then nodded.  "Y' go up when yer ready.  I'll be there shortly."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris felt Vin enter the room, but he didn't hear him, or see him, and he wondered how it was the man could move so damned stealthily.  He waited a long moment, holding his breath.

          "Told y' I'd be right b'hind y'," came the tracker's soft whisper.

          Chris allowed himself to breath again.  "Never doubted it, pard," he replied softly.

          A moment later, Tanner slid naked into Chris's bed.

Larabee reached out and pulled the lithe tracker to him, holding him tight against his chest.  He could feel Vin's arousal, but he knew he couldn't love the man the way Vin wanted him to.  And it had nothing to do with the possibility of someone overhearing them.  The fear his nightmares had infected him with was just too strong.  No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he couldn't get past the terrible images.

          "Chris, y' asked me not t' prod y', but y' gotta know I'm worried 'bout ya."

          "I know," Larabee whispered.  "Soon.  I swear it.  Soon.  I'll tell you."

          Vin nodded, resigning himself to just holding the man who meant more to him than life itself.

And together they drifted off to sleep.

Just before dawn, the tracker left the same way he'd come, no one the wiser that they had spent the night sleeping in each other's arms.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The day was cooler, a promise of rain hanging in the air, made more real by the distant rumble of thunder.  Chris and Vin worked side by side on the roof of the new house, nailing down shingles in a race with the approaching weather.

          "Runnin' short on nails," the tracker said, lying his hammer down and starting for the ladder.  "Y' want 'nother bucket-full?"

          Chris nodded.  "Might as well."

          Vin stopped and wiped his face with his shirtsleeve, then smiled.  "Think a swim in the creek might be a good idea later.  Storm won't last long."

          Larabee grinned back.  "You do, huh?"

          The tracker nodded, his gaze hungry.

"Guess we could both use a bath – later.  Let's get this roof finished before that storm hits."

          "Slave driver," Vin grumbled, heading down the ladder.

          When the tracker still hadn't returned a few minutes later, Chris called down, "Hey, Vin, you makin' those nails?"

          There was no reply.

          A chill snaked down his back and Chris stopped and set his hammer aside.  Standing, he looked out over the property, but nothing seemed out of place or wrong.  "Vin?" he called.

          No reply.

          Heart suddenly slamming against his breastbone, Larabee walked to the edge of the roof, calling more loudly, "Vin!"  The ensuing silence felt like it might strangle him.

          With a softly muttered curse, Chris turned and climbed down the ladder.  On the ground he glanced around again, but he still couldn't see anything out of place.  Nothing to explain why Vin hadn't returned.  He stared at the horses in the corral, but both Pony and Peso were standing quietly head to butt, tails swishing to chase the flies from the other's face.

          "Vin!" he called a third time, his voice sounding desperate, even to his own ears.  He rubbed his sweat-dampened palms down the front of his pants before stepping into the house.  He stopped abruptly just inside the door, eyes going wide.

Vin lay sprawled on the wooden floor, blood running down one cheek and soaking into his hair.

And then everything went black.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Consciousness returned slowly to the gunslinger, accompanied by pain pounding in his skull and a creeping coldness that seemed rooted in his bones.  He groaned softly, forcing his eyes open as a flair of panic raced along his consciousness: Vin.

He blinked several times before his foggy vision cleared enough for him to make out his surroundings.  He was in a cellar, a large cellar, laying in a bed . . . a large, feather bed.  And he was tied, hand and foot, to the brass bars of the head-and foot-boards.

          He tested the bonds securing him, but the leather thongs refused to give.  Lifting his head, he confirmed what he already knew.  He was lying naked on top of the bedspread.  Red lines decorated his chest where someone had scratched him, but the skin remained unbroken.

          It took him a moment to make out the words the lines created, but then the pattern became clear: You are mine.

          His head dropped back onto the pillow and he groaned softly.  _Ella_.  _Fuck_.

          "Hello, Chris."

          He sighed and opened his eyes again, glaring as he glanced around until he finally found the woman, seated in a dark corner.  She was dressed in a fancy white chemise, a white lace shawl draped over her shoulders.

          She stood and walked over to the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.  Sitting down on the edge, she reached out and ran her fingernails lightly over his chest and ribs, prickling his skin as they passed like ghosts.

"I'm so glad you're awake," she said, her hand still moving.  "I was afraid they'd really hurt you."  Her hand strayed lower, her fingers tangling in the short hairs at his groin.

          Chris jerked away from the touch and hissed, "What do you want, Ella?"

          "What I've always wanted, darlin' . . . You, Chris Larabee.  I want you to remember how much you love me."

          "I don't love you," Larabee snarled.  "And nothing you can say or do is gonna change that."

          "Yes, you do, Chris.  You always have.  You've just forgotten.  But I have you back now, and I'm going to show you.  I'll help you remember, I promise."

          Larabee fought back the words he wanted to say to the woman, knowing she wouldn't hear them, couldn't, in her madness.  "Where am I?" he asked instead.

          "One of my husband's haciendas," she replied, her fingers reaching out to caress his cheek.

          Chris laughed hollowly.  "Ella, you're a married woman, what do you want with me?"

          She smiled, tilting her head to the side and watching her hand as she lightly ran her palm over Larabee's chest, stroking his nipples until they turned hard despite his revulsion.  "I'm a widow, Chris, not a married woman."

          "Widow?" he asked her, trying to lie still as she lightly touched his sides, hips, and thighs.

          "Yes, a widow, Chris – again.  Sadly, I had to kill my husband.  Edward was a good man, but he was so . . . jealous."  She looked up, smiling at him.  "I talked about you, all the time, you see.  And he decided he needed to have you killed.  I couldn't allow that to happen, now could I?  I killed him to save you, Chris, to save our love."  Her hand continued to wander, touching, caressing.

          Larabee's eyes narrowed.  "What did you do to Vin?  You kill him, too?"

          She shook her head.  "No.  No, he's still alive.  Here."

          "Vin's here?" Chris asked, his mouth going dry.  He remembered all too well what Ella had tried to do to the tracker the last time she'd had him.  And what she'd threatened to have done to him.

          "Yes, he's here.  Would you like to see him?" she asked, fondling his shrunken cock.

          "Yes," Chris said through clenched teeth.  " _Now_."

          "Very well," she replied with a sigh.  She stood and walked over to a door rapping on it sharply with her knuckles.  It opened a moment later and a man stepped inside, his gaze going immediately to Chris, his eyes narrowing with distaste.

          "Diego, Mr. Larabee would like to see his friend.  I want you to cut him loose and let him dress.  Meet me outside when he's ready."

          The man nodded once.

          Ella glanced back over her shoulder and smiled at Chris.  "You'll see your Nancy-boy, Chris, I promise you."

          "What've you done to him?" Larabee growled, the icy wash of fear filling his belly.

          Ella laughed.  "Nothing, darling, nothing at all.  Don't worry.  I haven't done a thing to him; you'll see."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Outside, Chris squinted against the bright sunlight.  Diego and two other men held him, but the shackles on his wrists and ankles made it impossible for him to fight or to run.

"Where is he?" he demanded when Ella walked over to join them, dressed in what looked like a scarlet ball gown.  "Where's Vin?"

She reached out, cupping the side of Chris's face.  "I just don't understand it.  How can you possibly love him?" she questioned, the confusion in her eyes real.

"Where is he?" Chris repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

Ella sighed sadly, then took a step away and called, "Roberto!"

A man stepped out of a small shack across the yard.

"Bring him out," she called.

A moment later, three men escorted Vin out of the small wooden shack.  His hands were tied in front of him, but he was dressed the same as he had been the last time Chris had seen him, lying face-down on the floor in the house, although the blood had dried to the side of his face and in his hair.

"Let him go," Chris said, his voice not quite pleading.  His gaze never left the tracker.  He could see the concern in Tanner's blue eyes, and an assurance that he was unharmed – for the moment.

Ella smiled.  "Oh, don't worry, he's leaving, Chris."

Larabee frowned and forced himself to look at the mad woman.  "Ella, what the hell are you playing at?" he asked, the icy fingers of fear beginning to squeeze his heart.

She waved at the men and they dragged Vin back into the shack.

Chris fought back his rage, managing to say calmly, "You have me.  That's what you want, isn't it?  Let him go.  Ella, please."

She sighed, the sound sad and more than a little frustrated.  "Oh, Chris," she breathed, "I'll never have you, not completely.  Not as long as he's there to come between us."

"That's not true," Larabee lied.  And this time he didn't care if he sounded like he was begging or not, as long as it got Vin away from the madwoman.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is," she said, shaking her head sadly.  "There's only one way to purge his poison from you, Chris . . . just one."

The gunslinger's brow furrowed, trying to guess what she might have in mind, but movement near the shack distracted him and he saw the three men walking away.  He looked back to Ella, pleading this time, "Please, Ella.  If you truly love me, you'll let him go."

She smiled, tears standing in her eyes.  "I do love you, Chris, more than anything on this earth.  That's why I have to do this.  Why I have to purify you.  So we can finally be together, like we're supposed to be."

The faint odor of burning wood reached Chris and he jerked like he'd been punched in the gut.  His head snapped around and he stared in horror as the first flames began to lick hungrily at the small shack.

"What're you doing?" he roared at Ella.

She gazed serenely at the shack, her expression half-sad, half-excited.  "I'm saving you, Chris.  I'm saving our love the only way I know how.  You'll thank me one day. . ."

Larabee gaped at her for a moment, then turned to stare at the shack as the flames grew, leaping and twisting in the light breeze that blew.  "No!" he cried.  "Vin!  Vin!"  He rounded on Ella.  "You fucking _bitch!_ "

He threw himself at her, but Diego and the other two men grabbed him, holding him back.  Chris fought like a wild man, but the shackles made it impossible for him to break free.

With the shack fully engulfed in flames, Chris tilted his head back and wailed Tanner's name, the sound ripping out of his throat as his will to live was ripped from his soul.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin met Chris's gaze across the space between them, trying to determine if the gunslinger was all right.  Larabee was shackled, and the three men holding him looked capable of anything, but there was no blood, no bruises.  And the look he got in return put his mind fully at ease.  Ella hadn't done anything to him, not yet anyway.  Chris was worried, but he was whole.

And it appeared Ella didn't have any plans for him this time.  None like the last time, in any case.

          After a few moments – just long enough for Chris to get a good look at him – the tracker was roughly escorted back into the empty shack and forced into a chair, the only piece of furniture in the whole place.  They tied his feet, wrapped a couple of coils around his shoulders, securing him, then two of the lackeys left.  The last, a man Vin recognized from months spent as a Union prisoner of war, paused on his way out.

          Stepping up to Tanner, he checked the ropes one last time and growled, loud enough for the other two to hear, "You're a dead man.  We're gonna burn y' up in here.  Best make what peace you can with your God."  The other two chuckled, but they couldn't see the man slipping Vin back his knife before he turned and left, saying, "Let's get the hell out of here.  I need a drink."

          A few moments later, the tracker heard the sounds of matches being struck, and the unmistakable smell of burning wood filled the small structure.

          Tanner wasted no time, immediately going to work to cut himself free as the flames grew stronger, spreading around him.  He worked faster, knowing the old, dry wood would burn fast.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, nearly blinding him, but finally he cleaved the ropes at his wrists free.  The ones around his chest and at his ankles were severed much faster.

"No!" Chris cried, the sound reaching him over the roar of the flames.  He cringed, the pain in the gunslinger's voice like a knife twisting in the tracker's guts.  "Vin! . . . Vin! . . . You fucking _bitch!_ "

Making his way to the back of the shack, Vin looked for cover, finding it in the form of an old wagon sitting next to a long-unused well.  He checked for the guards, and when he didn't see them, he stepped back, then launched himself through the window of the shack, the glass shattering.

He rolled through the dirt, coming to a stop under the wagon.  He waited for someone to raise an alarm, or start shooting, but there was nothing, just the sound of the flames growling and snapping as the wood was quickly devoured.

A grim, almost feral smile curled his lips.  He'd made it.  Now he just had to get Chris back.

Then he heard it, a sound that would haunt his dreams until the day he died – his name, wrenched from Chris Larabee's throat in a primal scream.

Vin swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut until the wail finally trailed off and died in desperation.  _I'm sorry, Chris.  God 'm sorry, but there's nothin' I c'n do t' help y' right now_.

He scrambled on his belly to the far side of an old well where he could see Chris fighting his guards, throwing himself at Ella again and again, his hands clawing for her throat in a hate-filled rage.  But three men quickly subdued the shackled gunslinger, beating him until he collapsed into the dirt.  They stood over Larabee, kicking him, but Ella stopped them, snapping something Vin couldn't hear.

The men reached down and jerked Larabee back onto his feet, but the gunslinger's head and shoulders sagged, and they had to half-drag him back to the big house, his legs clearly refusing to support his weight.

Vin could read Larabee's posture as easily as he read signs on the trail – Chris was defeated.

The tracker cursed softly, wishing desperately there was some way he could let Chris know he was still alive, and there wasn't one.  _Y' gotta fight, Chris.  Y' gotta stay alive 'til we c'n get y' outta there.  Y' just gotta use that heart 'a yers.  If y' listen, it'll tell y' I ain't dead.  Please, Chris, listen 'n' don't go an get yerself killed.  Please_.

Using every ounce of willpower he had, Vin forced himself to stay right where he was until night finally fell.  Then, in the quiet darkness, he slipped away and headed for town where help was a telegraph message, and a two-day ride, away.

And those two days, he knew, would be spent hiding and worrying about what the madwoman might be doing to his best friend.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Back in the cellar, stripped and bound, Chris lay on the feather bed, staring up at the ceiling, but all he could see were the flames, leaping and jumping, consuming the second love he'd found in his otherwise miserable life.  Vin. . .

          Vin Tanner was dead.

          Those words echoed in his mind, robbing him of breath and any concern over his situation.  Time passed, but it was as if in a dream.  Ella appeared from time to time, talking to him, but he didn't hear a word she said, and cared even less.  But still she hounded him.

          "I know you're all alone, Chris, and I'm sorry, but you still have me.  It's just you and me now, Chris.  I'll make the pain go away.  I'll show you the love you've forgotten.  I love you, Chris.  I'll make you remember how much you love me.  I promise."

          Her hands touched him, but he didn't feel them, the pain in his heart too great for it to penetrate.  Minutes stretched to hours, hours into days.  She petted him, stroked him.  She scratched, and kissed, and suckled, but it all meant nothing to the gunslinger.  He was already dead inside; it was just taking his body a little longer to catch up.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Two days.

Chris wasn't sure how he knew that it had been two days since Vin had burned alive, but he was sure it had been two days.

Two days since he'd eaten anything, or drank anything.

Two days since he'd slept.

          Two days that Ella had tried to rouse him from the living hell he was enduring until he could join Vin and Sarah and Adam across the divide.

          Two days to die a slow death.

          Ella was begging him to eat, to drink, to make love to her, but her words couldn't touch him, couldn't goad him to any action.  She screamed, her fists pounding against his chest, but he only stared past her to the ceiling, watching the flames that constantly haunted his memory.

          "Chris, please," she whimpered.  "You have to eat.  You have to drink something.  I need you.  You have to live, for me.  You have to love me.  Chris. . ."

          Desperate, Ella scrambled off the bed and hurried across the room, returning a few moments later with a knife that she used to cut the leather thongs, freeing Larabee for the first time.

          Taking one of his arms, she tugged and pulled until he finally sat up on the edge of the bed.

          "There, that's good, Chris," she said, smiling encouragingly at him.  "Now, you've got to eat something, darling.  You have to love me," she added, her tone begging, then petulant.

Stepping up between his legs, she wrapped her arms around his neck, cradling his head to her breasts, the knife still held in one hand.  "I love you so much, Chris.  You have to love me, too.  You have to remember what we meant to one another.  You just have to."

Her words were like the drone of the desert wind, but one fact reached though the numbing haze that had held him in its grip: he was free.

Standing, his legs trembling, Chris stared down at the woman who had taken everything he'd loved from him.

Ella tilted her head back, staring up into his eyes and pleading, "Please, Chris, you have to love me.  You have to. . ."

Without thinking, his hands came up, fingers fitting around her neck.  His touch was gentle at first, but then he squeezed – hard.

Ella's eyes rounded, her mouth forming a perfect surprised "O" as she fought for a breath.  "Chris," she gasped, "I love you . . . so much . . . I know . . . you love me . . . too."

And he could see the love in her eyes . . . and the madness.

With a violent shove he hurled her away from him, the numbness he'd felt since Vin's death crashing into raw anger like the first clap of thunder setting off a raging summer storm.  "You bitch!" he snarled, lips curling off his teeth.  "I'll _never_ love you.  _Never!_ "

Opening her mouth, Ella tried to say "No," but no sound came out.  She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him.

"You destroyed everything I've ever cared about!" Chris continued, voice as icy as an open grave.  "I hate you!  I can't stand the sight of you!  You make me sick!"

Ella's eyes rounded as if he'd slapped her.  "No," she gasped.  "No.  You don't mean that.  You _love_ me, Chris.  You've _always_ loved me."

"No, goddamn it!" Chris yelled.  "You were nothing but a damn whore!  I _never_ loved you, and I never will.  Fucking slut!"

Ella screamed and lifted the knife over her head, charging toward him.

A single shot rang out in the cellar and Ella stumbled to a stop, the knife slipping from her fingers to clatter on the stone floor.  She looked down at the gaping hole in her chest, realizing her death even as the life slipped out of her body before she started to fall.  She landed on the stone floor, eyes open, staring sightlessly at Larabee.

Chris watched her fall, his gaze finally lifting to see who had denied him the revenge he so desperately craved.

It was a ghost.  That was the only possibility.  But how could a ghost fire a sawed-off shotgun?  Well, he decided, if any ghost could do it, it would be Vin Tanner's.

His eyes filling with tears, Chris watched the specter walk into the cellar, stopping beside Ella's body.  Using the toe of his boot, he rolled her over body over and bent to feel for a pulse at her throat.

Looking up at him, the phantom said, "She's dead this time."

Larabee nodded.  Had Vin come to take him to the other side?

"Come on, Cowboy, we gotta get outta here.  Her men ain't gonna be happy their meal ticket's dead."

"You're dead," Chris managed to choke out past the lump in his throat.

Vin stood, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth.  "Not yet.  But we stay here much longer 'n' that might change.  Get yer clothes on, Larabee."

"Vin?" Chris moaned, squeezing his eyes closed, confusion and fear making the room spin and his legs quake.  And then the tracker was beside him, holding him up, guiding him to the bed, helping him to sit down.

"Easy, Cowboy.  It's really me."

Chris opened his eyes, peering up at the phantom, willing himself to know the truth.  "How?" he demanded, starting to shake all over.

"I'll tell y' when we're outta this damned hell-hole," Vin said, grabbing Chris's clothes from the chair where they lay, neatly folded.

Larabee was able to dress himself, but the buttons were too much for his trembling hands, so Vin fastened them for him, saying, "Just hang on, Chris.  I'll get y' out a here," he promised.  "Are y' hurt?"

Larabee shook his head.

"Come on then," Vin said, pressing the man's gunbelt into his hands and leading him to the door.  He checked to see if the stairs were clear, then grabbed Larabee's arm and lead him up and out of the house.

They passed three dead men on the way out, each of them still bleeding from knife wounds.  _Vin_ , Chris knew.  Vin had killed them all to reach him; to rescue him.

Vin was alive.

By the time they got outside, the shock of seeing the dead man had begun to wear off and Chris drew his Colt, ready to fight to keep both of them alive long enough to find out how the tracker had cheated death this time.  But he didn't have to do it alone.  The others were there as well, on horseback, shooting, covering their escape.

"This way," Vin said, leading Chris to where two horses waited, held by JD.

"Chris, you all right?" the young sheriff asked as the blond mounted.

"Am now," Larabee replied, taking up the reins.

"Let's go!" Buck called, then fired off another shot at one of Ella's men and led the way out of the yard.

The others followed the big ladies' man, gunfire and the screams of dying men echoing after them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          They rode hard, knowing some of Ella's men would follow, and they did.  Shots flew past them, one digging a chunk of cloth out of the sleeve of Ezra's red velvet jacket.  Another nicked the edge of Josiah's hat.

          They pushed their horses harder, racing for the cover of a short hill in the near distance.

          As they reached the edge, the horses leaned sharply into turns that carried them out of harm's way.  At the back of the pack with Chris, Vin's borrowed roan leaned into the turn, but then stumbled, going down hard on its front legs.  The tracker was sent flying over the horse's head, handing hard and bouncing once on the rocky ground.

          "Vin!" Chris cried, but a bullet passing close to his cheek kept him from pulling up his own borrowed horse and racing back to check on the fallen man.  Instead, he wheeled the big sorrel gelding around, Colt in his hand, and fired at their pursuers.  One of the men fell off his horse, bouncing off the ground and sending up a plume of dust.

          And then the others were firing as well, the hillside giving them the cover they needed, and the advantage of higher ground.

          A few moments later, two more of Ella's men lay sprawled on the ground and the other three were riding hard, back toward the hacienda.

          Nathan scrambled down the hillside and ran over to Vin.  "Ya all right?" he asked the tracker, who was desperately trying to suck air into his empty lungs.

          Eyes watering, ribs aching, Tanner nodded, unable to speak.

          "Easy," the healer said, resting his hand on the smaller man's shoulder and waiting until Tanner finally managed a couple of wheezing gasps before he started looking for broken bones.

          "Vin?" Chris asked, jumping down off his horse next to the fallen man.

          Tanner looked up at the gunslinger, a sheepish smile on his face despite the pain and the lack of air.  "Damn . . . roans . . . never . . .  liked 'em."

          Nathan and the others chuckled, but Chris reached out and rested a hand on the tracker's shoulder, asking, "You sure you're not a damned ghost?"

          "Hurts . . . too . . . damned much . . . t' be . . . a ghost," Tanner replied, finally beginning to fill his lungs again.

          "Let me have a look at yo'r head," Nathan said, starting with the old wound and then the newest lump.  A few minutes later he said, "Gonna have some bad bruises, but nothing's broke.  Y' hit yo'r head again?"

          "Don't think so," Vin said, winching when Nathan's fingers pressed on his scalp, finding a tender spot.  "Ow!  Damn, Nate, y' gonna do more damage 'n the fall, y' keep that up."

          The healer sighed and shook his head.  "Lucky for you you're so damned hard-headed.  Ya let me know if your vision gets blurred, or your head starts to hurt, y'hear?"

Vin nodded, knowing the man was honestly worried about him.  "Got somethin' that needs doin'," he said, nodding at the fallen roan.

          Chris and Nathan helped Vin to his feet, and the tracker walked over to where the gelding lay, moaning and twitching, both its front legs broken.  Taking out his Mare's Leg, Vin put the animal out of its misery.  Then, looking down at the still animal, he said, "Guess I'll be walkin' home, less one of y' is willin' t' double up."

          "Get your scrawny ass up here," Chris half-growled, his heart still racing from having watched the tracker go flying.  "This mule's big enough; he's not gonna notice you."

          Vin climbed up behind the gunslinger, his head already beginning to pound.  He settled against Larabee's back, content to spend the ride home resting right there, leaning against his lover's back.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Vin?" Chris called softly when he felt the tracker's full weight slump against his back a few hours later.  He pulled the big gelding up, the others stopping as well.

          Nathan reined his horse in for a closer look at the tracker.  "Damn, stubborn fool," he cured softly, seeing the bruise spreading down Vin's forehead and cheek.  "Took more of a hit on the head 'n he let on," the healer sighed.

          Chris swallowed hard and asked, "He going to be all right?"

          "Yeah," Nathan said, "I think so.  But head wounds can be tricky.  We ought t' stop in the next town so I can look him over, just to be sure.  Good night's rest probably set him to rights."

          Chris nodded.  "He can stay where he is 'til we get to Blue Springs.  We can spend the night there."

          Nathan nodded.  "Don't see why not; looks comfortable enough."

          Buck grinned and started to tease Larabee, but the honest worry in the man's eyes stopped him.  "He'll be fine," he told his oldest friend instead.  "Only man I know who's got a harder head than you do."

          Chris nodded and grinned in reply, but the fear didn't leave his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Vin?  Vin, can ya hear me?"  Nathan waited a moment, then gently patted the tracker's cheeks.

"Wha–?  What?" Tanner asked, his brow furrowing with confusion and more than a little annoyance.

"Vin, ya gotta wake up now."

"'M 'wake," he mumbled in reply.

"Got a couple a saloon gals here who want to spend the night with you," Nathan tested.

"Mmm," was the only response.

"Come on, Vin," Nathan said, reaching under the tracker's shoulders and pulling him up so he was sitting up in the bed.

"Damn, Nathan, cain't a man get some rest 'round y' without y' pesterin' him t' death?"

The healer smiled, watching as the blue eyes blinked open, looking clear.  "Need to make sure that fall didn't rattle your brain any more 'n usual."

"Didn't hit m' head.  I already told y' that."

"I found a tender spot,' Nathan reminded him.

"From when I got hit out at Chris's new place."

"Ah," Nathan replied, still doing a careful examination of the tracker's skull.  He found the small lump again and parted the thick chestnut hair to get a better look.  "Must've bled pretty good at the time," he commented, noting the scab.

"Yep."

"Pull up your shirt; I want to check your back."

Vin sighed, but he did as he'd bee asked, waiting while the healer poked and prodded.

"Nothin' broke, but some nasty bruises startin'.  I'll give you some liniment to rub on 'em when we get back."

"'Preciate it."

"Got a headache?"

"Little bit," Vin admitted.

"Vision blurry?"

"Nope."

"Feelin' sick?"

"Nope."

Nathan pulled the shirt and long john back down.  "All right, guess it ain't as bad as I was thinkin', but that fall kicked up that head injury; that's why ya passed out."

"Didn't pass out," Vin argued.  "Just fell asleep is all."

"Yeah, well, I want ya to get some sleep tonight.  Maybe that headache'll be gone come mornin'."

Vin nodded.

Nathan headed for the door.  "I'm just next door, if ya need me," he said.

Vin nodded.  "Thanks, Nathan."

The healer grinned.  "It's my job, and you boys keep me plenty busy."

Vin wasn't sure if he should grin or frown, so he just laid back down and closed his eyes, glad the ordeal was over and everyone was fine.  Sleep swept him up just as Chris entered the room.

The gunslinger crossed to the bed and stared down at the sleeping man, a small smile forming on his lips.  Vin was alive.

He carefully sat down on the bed next to the sleeping tracker, leaning back against the headboard and stretching his legs out along the mattress.  Reaching out, he stroked Vin's shoulder, letting the feel of the solid muscles under his hand reassure him Vin was, indeed, alive and well.

Tanner sighed softly and scooted closer to Chris, one hand reaching for and finding the gunslinger's leg, his hand resting on it, but he didn't wake.

Chris spent the rest of the night watching the younger man, tenderly touching him, telling himself again and again: _Vin's alive.  He's alive_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Chris sighed softly with relief when he saw the small town of Four Corners on the horizon.  Vin still rode behind him, but he was awake and apparently none the worse for his fall.  The night in Blue Springs had restored the tracker's health and he hadn't shown any signs that he was sore or in pain since.

          The conversation turned to what everyone planned to do once they got back, but Chris let it wash over him.  All he wanted was to get back to the house he and Vin were building so he could take the tracker into his arms and hold him – prove to himself once and for all that the man was alive and well.

          And this time he knew he wouldn't be haunted by his dreams.  The power that they had held over him had ended when Ella had died.  He knew he could love the tracker and not see the violation of his nightmares.

          "Chris, you two ridin' into town with us?" Nathan asked him.

          "Nope," Larabee answered for them both.  "Gotta see if the house is still standin'."

          "Hell, Chris, that'll wait for a day or two," Buck argued, not sure he liked the idea of the two of them being out there all alone.  Not after they'd nearly lost them both – again.

          Larabee shook his head.  "Didn't have the roof finished.  If it rained. . ."

          "Ya want us ta come out t'morrow and lend ya a hand?" Buck asked his long-time friend.

          "No.  If there's been damage, I'll let you know.  And I won't turn down some help then, either."

          "Always ready to lend a hand, brother," Josiah assured the gunslinger with a smile.

          "I know, Josiah, and I appreciate it," Chris replied.  "We'll see you in a day or two," he added, then reined the big gelding off the trail into town.

          "Vin, ya come see me if your head starts hurtin' again," Nathan called after the two men.

          The tracker raised his hand, giving the healer a wave to let him know he'd heard and understood.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two men rode along the path to the half-finished house, no words exchanged until they were almost there.

          "Hard to believe it's over," Chris finally said, breaking the comfortable silence.

          "Yep," Vin replied.  "Yer just damned lucky she didn't kill ya."

          "Like her husbands. . ."

          "All but the last."

          "The last?" Chris echoed.  "She said she killed him, too."

          "Tried," Vin told him.  "Heard the men at the hacienda talkin' while I was layin' low, waitin' fer the others t' get there.  She stabbed him, but she didn't kill him.  They's a little disappointed 'bout it.  Sounded like he's a hard man t' work for; got a mean streak and temper worth steppin' careful 'round."

          "She said she had to do it; he wanted to see me dead."

          "Then it might not be over after all," Vin warned him.

          Chris shook his head.  "A pissed-off Mexican I can handle, but Ella. . ."  He shook his head.

          "Madness is powerful magic," Vin said softly.

          Reaching the nearly finished house, they took time to feed and groom the big gelding, then turned him loose in the corral with Pony and Peso and headed into the nearly-completed house.  It was just as they'd left it.  The only sign anything had happened was the bloodstain on the living room floor.

          "Gonna have t' replace a few floorboards," Vin commented, reaching up to gingerly rub the fading knot on his scalp.

          "Could always leave it," Chris replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Make for interesting conversation when company drops by."

          "Hell, Larabee, what makes y' think anybody's gonna ride all the way out here to see ya?  Ain't worth the effort."

          The gunslinger chuckled softly.  "That suits me just fine," he replied, a hungry gaze taking in the tracker.  "Leaves me more time alone . . . with you."

          Vin grinned at that.  "And how do y' plan on spendin' that time?  Lazin' in the creek, or breakin' mustangs fer the Army?"

          "Some of both," Larabee admitted.  "But I've got other plans, too."

          "Guess I'll just have t' wait fer y' t' show me," Vin replied with a small sigh.  "Been so damned long now . . . I plum fergot."

          Growing hard at the sight of the grinning man, Chris closed the space between them, grabbing the tracker and pulling him close.  "I'll show you, ya damn skinny cuss. . ."  His hands rested on Vin's shoulders for a moment as he drank in the sight of the man – alive, healthy, and making him as hard as he could remember with just a tease.  He slid one hand up Tanner's neck and lightly grazed his cheek, rough from the days passed without a shave.  He felt the tracker tremble and knew why.  The same heat shot straight from the touch to Larabee's groin as well.

Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across Vin's cheek.  "I thought for sure I'd lost you," he whispered.

          "Damn near killed me, leavin' y' with that bitch fer two days," Vin replied.

          Chris closed his eyes, his lips a breath away from the stubbly skin, enjoying the puff of the tracker's warm breath.  He moved one hand to the tracker's chest as he kissed his mouth, nibbling his lower lip.

Vin parted his lips and Chris rushed in, his tongue reaching for Tanner's.

          The younger man grabbed Chris's biceps, holding him tightly.  His tongue reached for the gunslinger's, and Larabee groaned at the first electric contact, Vin's mouth hard against his.

          Chris felt more than heard the moan that rumbled through Tanner's chest.  Then the sharpshooter pressed forward and Larabee felt the tracker's cock brush against the front of his pants.  It was as hard as the gunslinger's.  He slid his hand down Vin's chest, massaging a hard nipple through shirt and underwear.  His other hand cradled the tracker's head as he pressed his mouth harder against his.

          Vin's hands moved from Chris's biceps and down the man's back to cup his ass, pulling the blond tight against him.  They both moaned, then broke apart to take a breath.

          "Been wantin' y' since the first day we come out here t' work on this place," Vin whispered heavily.

          "I know," Chris replied.  "Wanted you, too, but the damned dreams. . ."

          Vin frowned.  "They'd already started?"

          Larabee nodded.

          "Y' gonna tell me what they's about?"

          "Later," Chris promised.  Right now he only wanted to replace the haunting images with ones of love.

          Vin nodded, then nuzzled his head between Chris's neck and shoulder, his groin still pressed against the gunslinger's.

          Larabee reached down and squeezed the mound, making the tracker shudder.  "Come on," he said, nodding to the door.  "We've got some catchin' up to do."

          Vin smiled, blue eyes dancing with anticipation.

          They walked out to the tracker's wagon and climbed in.  Slowly, they undressed each other, Chris pausing when he eased the tracker's long johns down and Vin's cock sprang free, rising to meet his gaze.  He wrapped his hand around it, squeezing the length of the man.  A tiny drop of liquid formed on the tip, just poking through the folds of skin, and Chris used his thumb to smear it across the exposed head.

          He kissed Vin again, and this time the tracker's mouth was already open, waiting.  Larabee plunged into it, stroking the man's tongue with his own while his hand picked up the same rhythm on his shaft.

          Vin arched his hips, pumping into Larabee's fingers as he rubbed his hands across the gunslinger's back and cupped his ass, massaging his cheeks and pulling Chris closer so the blond's cock rubbed along his.

          Larabee responded by trailing his tongue along the column of Vin's neck to the hollow of his collarbone.  Then he moved down to suck the tracker's nipples before working his way down to Vin's navel.  From there he followed the arrow of hair farther down to the throbbing cock, the gunslinger's warm, moist breath making the tracker even harder.

          Vin suddenly pulled away, panting, "Ain't got much 'a m' wits right now, Cowboy.  Y' gotta slow down, let me take the lead fer a bit."

Chris nodded.

Vin knelt before the gunslinger and leaned forward.  The tracker's lips brushed Larabee's cockhead with a light, tender touch that drove the man wild.  Then he opened his mouth wide and the blond slipped in.  The tracker took all of him, tongue caressing the thick shaft.

          Larabee's head arched back, his eyes closing as he moaned softly.  He felt Vin reach between his legs, cupping his balls in his hands.  Without thinking, he pumped the tracker's mouth, sliding in and out of the warm wetness.  His knees wobbled and he tangled his fingers in the tracker's hair to steady himself, reeling from the sweet torment of sensations.

          Their groans filled the wagon as the tracker's lips worked their magic on Chris's shaft.  And, after a few minutes, Larabee stiffened, a hoarse cry escaping his throat as he came.

          Slowly, almost reluctantly, Vin pulled away and stood.  Chris stared at the man's cock, still hard and now leaking.  He reached out and caressed it.  Within moments he had Tanner in his mouth, his tongue sliding along the hot length of him.  He reached around and squeezed Vin's ass, sliding his fingers along his crack.

Vin clamped his hands on the gunslinger's shoulders for support, his whole body beginning to shake.  And a moment later he was filling Chris's mouth with his seed.

The sound of the tracker's soft whimpers brought Larabee hard again in a rush of pure desire.  He finally pulled away, smiling.

When Vin looked down and saw the want in Larabee's eyes, he turned around and bent over, placing his hands on the side of the wagon.  He heard Larabee reach for the oil and, a few moments later, felt Chris grab his ass, spreading his cheeks apart.  Then the gunslinger stepped forward and his cock brushed against the tracker.

The images from his dream flashed though Larabee's mind, but this time he was able to force them away as he pushed slowly into the tracker's hole, sighing as just the tip and then the rest of him disappeared, inch by satisfying inch.

Vin's cock grew hard again as Larabee pressed into him.  "Chris," he whispered.

Larabee began to withdraw slowly, but then slid forward again, grinning as Vin's breath turned ragged and his body began to shake.

Tanner felt filled, content, and he clenched his inner muscles.  Chris groaned as he pulled back again, and cried out as he pushed forward.  His left arm slipped around the tracker's waist, his right reaching to pull on Vin's cock.  And then Chris was driving in and out of the hot, tight passage.

Tanner's ass contracted around him as if the man wanted to hold Chris inside him forever.

And after what seemed like forever to the two men, Chris suddenly picked up speed, thrusting frantically as his hand worked feverishly on the hard cock, pulling and squeezing.  He felt Vin shudder as he started to come, shooting into Larabee's hand.

The hot seed dribbling over his fingers toppled the gunslinger, and he clenched Vin's hips and gurgled as he came.

Together, they collapsed onto the thick bedroll, pulling blankets over them as they snuggled together, arms and legs entwined.  When their breathing returned to normal, Chris sighed and pulled the smaller man close, saying softly, "I can't lose you, Vin.  I couldn't stand it."

"Ain't gonna lose me, Cowboy."

"Did in my nightmare," Larabee replied, voice barely audible.

"Just a dream, Chris."

"Watching that shack burn . . . that was real."

Vin felt the man tremble and squeezed him tightly, saying, "I'm real sorry 'bout that, Chris.  If there's been a way I could've let y' know. . ."

"You would have; I know that.  And I know there wasn't, but damn, Vin, when I thought you were dead–"

Chris's voice broke, and the tracker rubbed his chest, murmuring, "Easy, pard, didn't happen like that."

"The nightmare was bad, seeing you hurt . . . killed, but when I thought you were really dead . . . I . . . I felt myself die inside.  I just didn't have it in me to face that pain a second time."

Vin felt the man's jerk and knew he was crying, even if there were no tears.  He held Chris close and tight, whispering words meant to comfort.  And then the storm passed, and he kissed the gunslinger and swore softly, "Y' know I'll do m' best t' stand beside y', Chris, fer as long as I can.  But when my time comes, y' gotta be strong and keep livin'."

          "Don't think I can make that promise."

          "Just do yer best, that's all any man c'n do."

          Larabee nodded, but he knew he'd be following Vin into a grave as quickly as he could.  And if there was a loving God like Josiah tried to convince him there was, they'd die together.

          "At least that bitch is dead," Chris said.  "And I know the truth about Sarah and Adam.  She can't hurt you anymore either."

          Vin nodded.  "Y' gonna tell me now what that nightmare was all 'bout?"

          Chris hesitated, but then realized that the real nightmare had been watching the shack burn, thinking Vin was inside.  He described the images that had haunted his nights for the past couple of weeks, knowing they wouldn't return, but he had to wonder how many times he'd watch that shack burn, Vin tied up inside, in his dreams.

          "Hell, Cowboy, ain't any wonder y' didn't want t' touch me."

          "It was just a dream; I shouldn't've let that stop me."

          Vin pulled back just far enough to look the man in the eyes and say, "Dreams have power, Chris, never ferget it.  Dreams like that come fer a reason."

          "It was a warning . . . telling me Ella was out there."

          "Maybe tellin' y' not t' believe yer eyes when y' saw me dead."

          "Maybe," Chris admitted, then he paused and added, "You never did tell me why you're _not_ dead."

          Vin sighed softly.  "One of Ella's men . . . I knew him, a long time ago.  He slipped me m' knife on his way out t' set the fire."

          "He must've owed you one hell of a debt," Larabee said.

          Vin shrugged one shoulder.  "From a time that still haunts m' own dreams from time t' time.  We's prisoners together, during the war.  Hellmira."

          "Christ," Chris breathed.  "I heard about that place . . . we all did."

          "Guess he figured I saved his life there and he owed me mine."

"Guess Josiah's right."

          "'bout what?"

          "There must be a God up there, watchin' over us," the gunslinger replied.  "How else can you explain that man being there?"

          Vin thought for a moment, then said, "Might have a point."

          And, holding each other, they drifted off to sleep, content that they were both alive and whole.  Tomorrow would take care of itself, and they'd be there to face it, together, for as long as they could.

And in the morning when they awoke, still cuddled together, they made love again, slowly, savoring the life they'd found in each other's company and arms.  A life no longer haunted by some of the ghosts from their pasts.

 

 

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[2]  See the story "The Measure of a Man." 

 


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